


L is for Lust

by KateKintail



Series: The ABC Series 2012 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comment Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean misses Sam, but he's got Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L is for Lust

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a collection of short H/C ficlets. I asked on one of my LiveJournals for a one word for each letter of the alphabet, as well as a fandom and/or pairing.

“ _ehh-Shooo!_ ”   
  
“Bless you.”  
  
“Thank you?”  
  
“You didn’t call.”  
  
Lying on the roof of the car, Dean finally turned his head to the side, seeing Castiel standing beside the car, cell phone in hand. Cas tilted his head to match the angle of Dean’s as best he could. “I didn’t feel much like… doing anything.”  
  
“That isn’t entirely true. You’re looking at the stars. That’s something,” Cas pointed out.   
  
“Yeah.” Dean coughed into a fist and let his head roll back, looking up at the sky. “Guess it is.”   
  
“And you sneezed. That’s something else.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
There was a pause. Then, “You miss him.”   
  
Dean closed his eyes for a few seconds, going from dark black sky to the darkness of his eyelids. When he opened them again, the stars were all the more brilliant for it. “Yeah, I do.” It was another one of their stupid fights. Something about Dad or Sam’s soul or something that had seemed so incredibly important at the time but now seemed so incidental and petty he couldn’t even remember what it was exactly. All he knew was that Sam had stormed off, left town, told Dean he needed his space and Dean hadn’t broken down and called him. Yet.   
  
He hadn’t called Cas either, yet there he was. Trench coat. Tie. Concerned expression. Just when he thought the loneliness would start eating away at him. “Come here,” Dean said, scooting over so there was room on the car. And suddenly Cas was there, beside him, staring up at the stars as well.   
  
Dean coughed again and rubbed a tickle out of his nose. He was fighting off some damn bug, popping vitamin C tablets and downing juice at every opportunity. He really didn’t want to take anything else unless it got so bad he couldn’t drive. At least Sam wasn’t there to catch this from him; Sam always caught whatever Dean had, and usually had it worse in the end. “Angels can’t get sick, can they?”   
  
“No, Dean.”   
  
“Good thing.” He coughed again and felt Cas’ hand on his forehead, then his cheek. Then Cas drew him over. The angel’s arms both wrapped around Dean, stubble against his cheek, perfectly warm body pressed close.   
  
Dean looked up, tracing constellations with his eyes. “Sam and I used to watch the skies like this. For hours.”  
  
“Like this?” His grip on Dean tightened.   
  
Dean smiled. “Well, no, not exactly like this, I guess.” He turned his head, smothering a sniffle into the collar of Cas’ trench coat.  
  
“You should sneeze.”  
  
Dean wasn’t so sure, but he did give in anyway. “ _h’Shuhhhh!_ ” Cas didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Dean relaxed again, like that hadn’t just happened. “This is… great. It’s what I need.”  
  
Castiel’s nose rubbed against Dean’s face. His breath was pleasantly warm, soft, intimate. “It’s not all you need.”  
  
Dean swallowed. Coughed. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d show up with a tissue box and cough drops, but if you got ‘em on you…”  
  
“Not what I meant. I meant sexual relations.” A hand broke from the hug, sliding down Dean’s back, around the front, to his crotch. That was Cas, getting right to the point. No sugar coating. No playing games. Honest and blunt and efficient. And, yeah, Dean had wanted it. Needed it, even.   
  
The kiss drew Dean’s gaze from the stars and straight to Castiel. Even lit only by the moon and starlight, Cas seemed bright. The zipper of Dean’s jeans slid down. The tie around the trench coat slipped off. Dean’s urges took him over entirely. His blood boiled with lust. The one kiss became a million. The embrace became a bond. And the touch became infinite.   
  
In that moment, Dean wanted Cas more strongly than he had ever wanted anything. And when Cas rolled on top of him, and Dean thrust upward, it was like making love to the sky itself. And it seemed to last forever, like a fire constantly fed, constantly growing. He might not believe in God but, damn it, he believed in Castiel.   
  
When Dean’s senses returned, he found himself once again in Castiel’s arms, lying on half of the open trench coat, snuggled impossibly close against Cas’ chest, with the other half of the trench coat draped over him as Cas still wore it.   
  
“How did you know?” Dean murmured, sniffling a little, not wanting to ruin the moment with a sneeze but knowing it was probably inevitable.   
  
“You called me.”  
  
“I didn’t.”  
  
Warm lips on his forehead. “Not in words.”  
  
Dean pressed his nose against Cas, but that didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. “ _hehhh-SHUHhhhh!_ ” He sniffled. “In… in sneezes?” He had a brief image of himself sneezing every time to call Cas… or Cas showing up every time he sneezed. This cold might not be so bad after all.   
  
Another kiss. “No, Dean.”


End file.
